Finding Regina
by atlonglastlove
Summary: A short, hopefully sweet, and definitely different take on what happened between Emma and Regina in Storybrooke - post Cricket Game. Dedicated to the Swan Queen Nation.


**Finding Regina**

Emma looked at her reflection. She found it wanting.

Her time in Fairytale land had been hard. She'd felt awkward, disconnected, uncertain, afraid, curious, shocked, and out of sorts. Usually all at the same time. As much as everyone seemed to be rooting for it, though, she never felt 'right.' She'd hardly figured out which way was up, before the fundamentals of everything she understood would be again upended, and she had to figure out what was what and who was who.

Or who was what.

And she'd worried about Henry. Missed him more than she thought she could.

Beads of water coursed down her features. She'd imagined, stupidly, that the mere act of splashing her face with the ice cold water that ran through Storybrooke pipes at 2:00 in the morning— no matter the temperature outside—that it might stop her meandering and frustrating thoughts that always turned back. Had done so all week, every hour, every minute. Back. To one thought.

Not Henry. He lay asleep on the couch, just the other side of the bathroom door. No.

Not Henry.

It had been one week since Regina had disappeared, literally, in a puff of smoke. One week which had felt like an eternity.

Back in Fairytale Land, Emma had also, desperately, missed Regina. Had been loathe to admit it, but she'd become accustomed to Regina, hadn't she? Accustomed to seeing her. Weekly. Daily. Often. To watching her glide along the world, unflappable, perfect. Untouchable. Grown accustomed to navigating her moods. The landmines, the eggshells, the effrontery. Accustomed. Intrigued.

And more than a little bewitched.

In fact, Emma'd been so loathe to admit the depth of her care for Regina, that maybe she hadn't really done so until this very moment-staring back at her own reflection and wishing this week had been different, that SHE had been different. Wishing she'd trusted herself, believed Regina like she had yearned to… believed her_self_.

For a week now, she'd wanted nothing more than to take back the words she'd spoken. She had trapped Regina, manipulated her, set her up, pushed her from the cliff, and watched her fall. Her words, hurled at Regina, there on the Mayor's sidewalk, had meant to pierce, to move her from hiding, and they had worked far more effectively than anyone else even realized.

But Emma knew. She saw the unchecked fear, the pain in the dark eyes that Emma dreamt of. Every night. Regina's eyes.

So sad. So hurt. So broken.

Emma brought up her middle finger and flipped herself off in the mirror before she grabbed a shirt and pulled it over her head.

She still had another chance, if she could just find her. Find... the Evil Queen.

#####

Without a word to her sleeping parents or her son, Emma strapped on her gun and wrapped herself into a jacket. She left the apartment silently, walked to her patrol car, and drove into the night.

She and her dad had looked a million places, but only one had stood out, only one had made Emma stop and think something wasn't right, and that's where she was headed. She'd let it go at the time, tired and worn out and, because she'd not been sure she really wanted to accomplish that mission anyway.

If Regina _had _been found, Emma would have had to acknowledge that she'd been wrong, that Regina'd been right, that her parents, and she, had been duped, and that something evil—something NOT Regina, had come to their city. Cora had come.

She'd have to admit a lot of things.

Still? At least now they all knew the truth.

Or most of it.

#####

As Emma pulled into the drive for the Shady Hills Motor Inn—known throughout town as Hades Hills Hotel, due somewhat to the perpetually burnt out "S' of the neon sign, somewhat to the deplorable state of the place—she flipped off her headlights and slowed to a crawl. Regina had gotten away last time.

Not tonight.

#####

There was only one dimly lit room besides the motel office. Emma peered into room 16 through a thin stretch of curtain, parted just enough. One expensive stiletto heel lay on its side -kicked to the floor, and looking utterly out of place in this seedy little dive motel at the far edge of town. One shoe. Looking for all the world like a Regina shoe.

She breathed, staring at the door, and Emma's thoughts rambled. She didn't like that Regina had holed up in this dreadful hole in the wall, though Emma had herself stayed at places just like this, dozens of times.

She thought of the deadbeats and assholes and miscreants she'd stalked just like she was hunting Regina now. But, Regina was innocent – At least this time, she was. She deserved better, and Emma couldn't give her that.

She didn't want to startle Regina, but worried at the availability of her magic, and the way that tipped the scales. Until Emma could harness her own magic, surprise was likely her only—and very marginal—advantage. Now or never.

"Fuck it."

Emma felt the wood give at her shoulder as she crashed through the door and into the room. Feet firmly beneath her, she spun around, and smelled a hint of metallic smoke, even as her eyes met those of a grizzled woman—hooked nosed, and warted—sitting on one of the room's double beds.

There was magic here, lingering, and Emma recognized an ability to sniff it out. Without it, though, without that hint? Emma would have simply known her from those eyes.

"Regina. I know it's you."

"And who are _you_, little one?" The old hag replied, looking quizzically at Emma.

"C'mon, Regina." Emma nearly letting her gun arm drop. She certainly wasn't going to shoot. But before she did, "Are you alone?"

The question took Regina by surprise, even more than the broken-down door. She scoffed at Emma, and shimmered back into herself with a wave of her hand.

"Like someone would be here with _me_, Sheriff?" Regina asked with undisguised derision. "The royal court, perhaps? Some of my intrepid allies?"

"Your mother?" Emma hated herself, but she had to be sure. And she hated hearing the use of her 'title' from Regina's lips. Hated that it meant how far they'd probably slid back. In front of Granny's… it had almost, nearly, begun to feel different. Emma realized she already mourned it, felt it passing out of her life, like water from her grasp.

Regina glared at Emma, folded her arms, and shifted her gaze to stare at the shitty hotel 'art' print that hung opposite the bed.

Emma had to forge ahead. "She's here. She framed you. Archie's fine." Emma looked about her, again. "She hasn't found you?"

Well, that did it. Regina eyes flicked to Emma's.

"No." Regina said flatly, now watching Emma with undisguised interest as the Sheriff sat on the bed opposite. "So, I'm absolved?"

"Completely! Yes.. God, yes…!" Emma stammered, "Regina, I don't know what to say, except…"

"Say nothing. Forget it." Regina stood abruptly, directly in front of Emma.

Her coral silk blouse was half-tucked, her pants looking wrinkled and dull. Emma drew her eyes up, past the thin, stylish belt, up the herringbone buttons, and met Regina's studied gaze.

It was all Emma could do not to flinch as Regina's hand reached out. Emma felt long fingers draw slowly down her check in a long caress. Regina's fingertips were soft on her skin and Emma felt her gut hitch.

"Thank you for finding me. Telling me. I'm glad about Archie." Regina sighed, and she moved her hand away. She smiled lightly. "Very brave of you, savior, to come here on your own." She started to move off, but Emma stopped her.

Emma stood, too, not letting herself think twice, let herself grasp Regina's hand the way she'd wanted to when they'd parted at Granny's. She'd wanted to, but hadn't let herself move. Yet here, in this ugly, foul smelling motel room with its faded curtains and Petri dish of a bedspread, Emma'd been granted clemency. They both had, and no one—not even themselves, it seemed–would judge this abrupt and unexpected truce.

"Thank you for not turning me into a toad." Emma smiled lightly, her thumb accidentally caressing Regina's index finger.

Regina's eyes moved to their interlocked hands. When that smoky gaze again reached Emma, her insides shifted again. Hard. Attention, like this, from Regina, was… combustible.

Graciously, the formerly evil queen released Emma from her spell with a wink.

"Though you completely deserved my worst."

Regina crossed to a whining, whirring refrigerator, tucked into the hotel room closet.

"Would you like a drink?" She asked a still rather baffled and grateful Sheriff. "No offense, but if my mother's here, our problems are much worse than you understand." Regina pulled the paper from the two water glasses atop the fridge, letting the wrappers drift to the ground without another thought. She dragged an open, cheap bottle of Pinot Gris from the cool confines and poured.

"I'm just sorry, _this_ is all I've got to steel ourselves with." She looked with dismay at the wine bottle, its tawdry label mocking her.

Regina handed a glass to Emma, and raised her own to toast.

"To us," said Regina with a not-unfriendly smirk.

They sat together at the round, plastic coated table. Emma's chair was missing a bit of leg or something, keeping her off-balance, and she had to steady herself by planting one booted foot beneath her—all in keeping with the moment.

"I thought you'd be… angrier with me." Emma said to her hands, holding the glass of wine. When she raised her eyes, Regina was staring back. Emma felt an unmistakable rush of warmth between her legs.

_Jesus_.

"If my mother wanted you to believe I was guilty, I'm sure she was thorough." Regina ran a long finger around the rim of her glass. "About your magic…?"

Emma laughed at herself, shook her head. "I don't know. I don't trust it. Understand it. I _shouldn't_ have believed it."

"It's convincing, though. That power." Regina responded. "You said you saw me. Kill Archie?"

Emma sighed out, remembering. "I used a dream catcher that Gold had. I could see Pongo's memories. Saw who I thought was you kill Archie in his office."

Regina's eyebrow quirked. She tensed slightly.

"Pongo?" She asked. "The dog?"

Emma nodded, hardly believing what she was admitting. Regina was silent a moment, studying her. Emma wanted to crawl under the doorjamb and disappear.

"You might have waved your fancy dream catcher over me, Sheriff." Regina's gaze was disappointed. "Hmmn?"

"I'll go." Emma rose. "I'm sorry."

"Stop trying to run away, or I'll think I'm mistaken about you." Regina put her hand over Emma's, who found herself grateful for the chair beneath her. She wondered if Regina was casting a spell on her. For her part, Regina closed her eyes briefly and sighed. "I'm not really that upset. Honest."

Emma couldn't imagine that, and Regina's voice betrayed her a bit.

"All that crap about keeping you from Henry…" Emma began.

"I understand fear, Emma. How it changes you. Hell, I've practiced instilling it in people for generations." Regina shrugged. "You did what you had to do."

"Still…"

Regina's voice dropped even lower as she admitted, "No one has ever trifled with me twice. It was the right move."

There was a long moment then. A long moment of simply being together. Each assessing the other. Incredibly, perhaps for the first time, they did so without malice, without fear, and without the weight of lost sons, broken curses, or other people's histories.

Who were they? Together? How did they fit in each other's lives?

Emma ran two hands over her face, through her thick curls, and took a deep breath.

Regina cocked her head and stared into the riot of bright, glorious color that characterized Emma's eyes.

"I want to do right by you, too, Emma." Regina admitted. "I want to… Know you. In ways that I don't. Haven't let myself."

Emma's eyes grew rounder as she took that admission apart. She completely believed Regina's statement, sure that she wasn't being played, as she had been so many times before. Emma held her hands out and they were instantly taken up by Regina's own. The warmth that passed between them was evident. It changed everything.

"I know there's…" Regina swallowed, "more to us." Her eyes softened, her voice scraping lower, "I haven't… felt… much. For awhile now."

Emma drew herself closer. She pulled Regina's hands to rest against the leather of her jacket, over her heart.

"Henry, he changed that first." Regina watched as Emma's fingers wrapped through her own, felt the charging heartbeat beneath the back of her hand. "And then. You. Did."

The look that had passed between them, on Regina's walk, Emma had surgically pinpointed Regina's Achilles heel. '…like you'll always be…' Regina could have literally destroyed her with a single motion. Could have proved Emma right.

Instead, she proved her utterly wrong.

And somewhere, deep inside, Emma had known, had hoped she would.

Who were they together? People who understood each other more than they'd expected they could another person.

"I'd like to feel more." Regina's voice was so low, it was a strain to hear, but Emma heard nonetheless.

"I'd like that, too." Emma nodded as she spoke. "Very much."

They leaned together.

Emma knew she was falling hard, and didn't care.

Regina was awakening to a stir long absent in her chest, her stomach, everywhere.

Their first kiss was electric. Tender and vital, soft and urgent, all-consuming.

Neither had imagined this was their path, but neither would deny the desire from the moment they met.

Emma felt Regina's hand at her cheek again. It was shaking. She covered the hand with her own. Regina broke off the kiss. Breathed.

"I'm very glad you found me, you know." Regina spoke, shuddered, in Emma's hair.

"Shhhh." Emma whispered, and her arms pulled Regina close. "I know. I've got you, okay? I'm here."

A grateful sigh sounded, as the small motel refrigerator groaned.


End file.
